


If You Liked It Then You Shoulda Put A Ring On It

by eeyore9990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek in makeup, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And as Stiles watches, his mouth going drier by the second, Phoenix begins to paint the plump contours of Derek’s lips, filling them in the same shade she’d lined them with.  Derek's lips are parted just enough to see the hint of his top teeth behind them, his lush, full bottom lip moving as the brush pushes against it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Liked It Then You Shoulda Put A Ring On It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfhardtorock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfhardtorock/gifts).



> Title from Beyonce's Single Ladies.
> 
> This is slightly different from the version posted to tumblr, but not by much.

"It’s not a party 'til the girls show up," Stiles shouts, rolling the door open wide to admit the ladies from Jungle. 

The loft is…well, it’s not _over_ filled, really, but the ‘pack and significant others’ group has grown quite extensively in the past few years, so with the arrival of the five drag queens, it’s a bit full. 

Miss Phoenix wraps her perfectly-manicured fingers around Stiles’ wrist, holding him back while the rest of the girls sashay their way into the far corners, rousting any wallflowers.

"Happy birthday, darling boy," Phoenix murmurs, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles slides a careful arm around her, desperately trying not to press wrinkles into her dress or otherwise muss her. “Thanks!” He doesn’t even try to hide his excitement. He fuckin' _loves_ the girls, and it’s no secret Phoenix is his favorite.

Phoenix casts a narrow-eyed, critical look around the room before nodding regally. “Lydia?” she asks, arching a brow.

"Yeah. Well, Derek helped. I mean. Supposedly." Stiles doesn’t mean to sound skeptical, but the last time the pack had held a party here, Derek had literally thrown the deejay out.

Phoenix’s expertly shaped brows raise in surprise, but then her lips twitch and she says, “Really? How interesting. Darling, be a sweetheart and fetch me a drink. I find myself parched.”

Stiles doesn’t even question it, just instinctively heads for the kitchen. He snorts quietly to himself as he calmly mixes drinks, thinking how much Scott and Derek would pay for keeping Phoenix around, if for no other reason than to have Stiles’ unquestioning obedience.

—

Because he’s not an idiot, Stiles delivers drinks to Cherry, Devine, Lola, and Jacquie before he makes his third trip to the kitchen to grab one for himself and another for Phoenix. When he reenters the living room, he skirts around the sofa and staggers to a halt, almost spilling Phoenix’s drink when his fingers go numb with shock. 

It had taken him a good ten minutes or so to make and deliver drinks to the rest of the girls, which probably explains how Phoenix had enough time to get Derek to agree to a makeover…

Actually, no. Stiles can’t quite wrap his head around Derek Hale _ever_ agreeing to a makeover, so the fact that Phoenix got him to agree in ten minutes or less is quite the revelation. Her superpower of gaining instant, unquestioning obedience from men named Stilinski—yes, the Sheriff is firmly wrapped around her pinky as well—must also extend to cranky werewolves.

Stiles mutters a promise to only use this knowledge for good, all while crossing his fingers behind his back.

And then he goes back to staring, his lips twitching in humor, as Phoenix outlines Derek’s lips in a deep rose color. He’d say something, catcall maybe, but he doesn’t want to risk the wrath of Phoenix if he inadvertently causes Derek to jerk at the wrong time and ruin her efforts.

Stiles edges closer, needing to set the drinks in his hands down so he can grab his phone and pull up the camera app. But before he can do that, he finds himself close enough to really _see_ …

And he’s caught, transfixed at the sight of Derek sitting so pliant and submissive on the sofa, letting Phoenix turn his face this way and that, his dark lashes fanned out across his cheeks as he keeps his eyes closed. His cheeks that are slightly ruddy with color, and Stiles finds himself licking his lips and leaning in further, trying to determine is it’s expertly applied makeup or a natural flush.

As he leans in, Derek must sense him because his eyes flutter open and oh shit oh shit. Stiles chokes a little, and _really_ regrets having his hands full of drinks, because he desperately needs to adjust himself now. 

Derek’s eyes are lined in kohl, making the light green/gold of his eyes pop in ways that are really unfortunate for Stiles.

And as Stiles watches, his mouth going drier by the second, Phoenix begins to paint the plump contours of Derek’s lips, filling them in the same shade she’d lined them with. Derek's lips are parted just enough to see the hint of his top teeth behind them, his lush, full bottom lip moving as the brush pushes against it. 

He stares at Stiles through the whole process, his eyes darkening and filling with some emotion that Stiles can't seem to name, even as familiar as he is with every expression Derek has ever worn. It's like a promise, or maybe it's a hint. A hint of what could be.

"Fuck," Stiles breathes, caught by that expression, and downs his drink in two loud swallows.

Phoenix stands back and critically eyes her work before turning to Stiles and smiling wickedly while divesting him of the other drink he’s holding. “Well,” she murmurs, low and for Stiles’ ears only, though he knows Derek can hear, “that _was_ the idea.” And then she glides away, elegant on five inch heels. 

Stiles just smiles weakly at Derek and hopes he’s not reeking of lust. “So, uh…”

"It’s hot in here," Derek says, apropos of nothing, and Stiles can only whimper as his eyes are drawn unerringly to Derek’s mouth. 

Derek’s fucking _mouth_. It looks fuller than ever, the color a perfect complement to his coloring. It makes Stiles think of that tumblr post about the tip of a guy's dick being the same color as his lips, and he can't stifle a moan.

Stiles has never wanted a lipstick ring around his cock so bad in his _life_.

Clearing his throat, Stiles tries desperately to remember what Derek said, then nods quickly. Something about it being hot in here, which, yeah. So fucking hot in here. Stiles gestures toward the balcony. “You wanna…?”

"Please. If you come with me, I’ll give you your present while we’re out there." 

And Stiles has proven more than once that he’d follow Derek into hell, so following him onto the balcony really shouldn’t be so nerve-wracking comparatively. But it is, because Stiles is a giant walking boner for Derek on a regular day.

This? With the makeup and oddly soft acquiescence to Phoenix’s ministrations? Yeah. Stiles is just surprised he hasn’t made a mess of his pants yet, really.

When Derek checks the balcony for other guests and then shuts the doors, Stiles’ heart trips double time. He licks his lips and swallows nervously, searching for something, anything, that will break the spell he’s put himself under. “Uh, is it out here? The present, I mean?” he asks, his voice rough and shaky.

Derek points to the far side of the balcony, which is cast in shadow. Stiles can make out a grouping of outdoor furniture, so he walks toward it, looking for a present. When he gets there, he finds himself shoved onto a wicker chair. Derek slides to his knees in front of it, his lips curling up as he reaches for the waistband of Stiles’ jeans.

Leaning forward even as he works Stiles’ zipper down, Derek presses their mouths together almost chastely. Stiles' own lips feel slick and tacky with lipstick when he pulls back enough to speak.

“I’ve been waiting too long for this,” Derek whispers against Stiles’ lips. “Wanted to make it special.

And then, his black-rimmed eyes flashing brilliantly at Stiles in the low light, Derek leans down and gives Stiles the lipstick ring of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Yup. I'm [on the tumblr](http://tumblr.com/blog/eeyore9990).


End file.
